Love Is Death

I walk into our floor, I drop to the spinning, my mind is us, I see a picture of eyes. Tears start falling out of my apartment. All I know is, nothing makes sense without you.


I never told you this but when I first saw you on the R train, I immediately took notice and thought to myself  “I want to talk to this person.” But I mean, I think that about a lot of people and most of the time I don’t do anything about it. I remember the first time we actually spoke words to each other, we were at Union Square. I was waiting for my friend in the freezing cold, and you came over to ask me for a light. I remember thinking you look so familiar. Then you said “gosh you look so fucking familiar.” I laughed.

A week later, I saw you on the train again and I wonder if for the first time you saw me back. You chuckled and came over to my seat. You are so good at the whole “talking to strangers” thing.

I never told you this but when we first started talking, I forgot what your name was. I’m pretty sure you forgot mine too and when we first started dating, I didn’t think you were different. Then one day, we were on my bed in the afternoon, just talking and it hit me. I could’ve lived my life on the moon with you, only surviving on conversation. You fascinated me. You became this big beautiful question mark like how is it possible for someone to understand me this much without going on a limb, question mark. Or what kind of sick joke from god is this, question mark.

Maybe this was meant to be. Maybe the angels are looking down on us checking off things that happened to us, smiling. Maybe you have this power where everyone you meet falls in love with you. I wish I asked you that night we were under the bed sheets, tying our bodies with limbs and thighs. I wish I told you never forget this feeling.

This winter in New York seems the longest. We were in the dark, sitting on the couch after the movie credits ended and we just sat there. Nothing to say, no comments, no questions; nothing. You sighed, deep. I could hear you tremble and swallow hard. But even in the tough times when I thought I was losing my mind or you thought you were going to lose your job, I would look at you on the worst of nights  and wrap my body around your stiff back and shoulders; we would survive. I believed this wave would pass too.

In November, after a big fight we had I waited for you although I was the one that wasn’t picking up your calls and texting you back. When you came home, I expected a fight to ignite or a silent treatment at least, instead you talked to me about your day like everything was normal and I looked at you. I couldn’t stop tearing up. You are so fucking good at talking to strangers, and that is what I have become. When the new year came, you got a job offer in California for a few weeks.

“Do you want me to come?”

“Should you come?”

I knew I shouldn’t. “Is this the end?”

“I don’t want it to be.”

In January, you left and a few weeks later, I got a call from your mom that you passed away.

It doesn’t make sense. I don’t believe it. I am mad. I am trying to say goodbye. I am crying. I am saving the last vowel tucking it in under my tongue next to the things I never told you.

“Bye.” Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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